Guts
by CharlottePaige-3
Summary: Obviously Blaine Anderson had a life before he met Kurt Hummel at Dalton, but does anyone really know exactly what happened? Guts goes from the early days right up to Klaine's first kiss and beyond. Blaine&OC-centric up to possibly ch. 12.
1. Chapter 1: Before The Worst

**[AN: Hey there! I'm Charlotte and this is my first ever fanfic. It's Klaine but focuses a lot on Blaine, before he met Kurt. I wanted to build on the character and add my own spin on things, so please be patient as Kurt WILL come into it a few chapters in. Dylan Blackburn is an original character and belongs to me :3 I do not own Glee, Darren Criss (I wish!), the characters from the show or any main plots from the show. Anyway, please read and let me know what you think! Please leave me a review, I really appreciate it. Second chapter is in the process of being written, should be up soon - probably after Christmas. Hugs, Charlotte :3 **

**Warnings for language and homophobia. :)]**

Chapter 1

"Blaine! Dinner!" my mother called up the stairs. Impressive really, that such a tiny woman's voice could carry up two flights of stairs.

"Coming!" I yelled back, dragging myself away from my mirror. I had been slaving away in front of it for hours, trying to get the look just right. I was starring in my high schools school production, and the part involved a lot of make up. I grinned at myself in the mirror, chuckling at the state of my painted face before walking down to the kitchen.

"Come on Blaine, eat! You have to be at the school soon" my mother chastised as she handed me a glass of water. I took my seat at the table and soon began eating. My mom had always been a fantastic cook and had brought me up to love food.

* * *

><p>"Renata! I'm back!"<p>

My father was home. Even if he hadn't called out to my mom I would have known it was him: my dad had a very particular way of throwing his keys down and taking off his coat that was unmistakable. I looked up as the tall, suited man walked into the kitchen.

"Good God Blaine, what is that on your face? Not turning soft on me, are you?" he chuckled, raising his eyebrows at the make up.

I laughed and shook my head.

"It's for the show Dad, don't worry" I replied as I stood up to take my empty plate over to the sink.

"That's good, was worried that all this drama was turning you gay" he joked, chuckling to himself.

From my place at the sink, I froze. After a few moments I laughed half-heartedly, trying not to give anything away. I slowly washed my plate and excused myself to the living room. I bit down on my lower lip, playing with it between my teeth.

"It was just a joke, relax" I muttered to myself, running my hand through my tousled, wild curly hair. Of course it was just a joke, my father would never mean to say something like that.

* * *

><p>My father, Jonathan Anderson, had always prided himself in displaying perfection to all those that knew him. He held down a successful job in a large building society, owned a holiday home in Milan, had a beautiful wife and a wonderful son. That was what he always introduced me as: "This is Blaine, my wonderful son. He's on the football team, swim team and he's the star of theatre at school" he'd say, showing me off to all the rich old clients at parties. I never really felt like he cared too much about me as myself. As long as I was being good and doing things others would be envious of, he was happy. This didn't make me hate my father; I just didn't know him very well. I've always tried to make him proud though. I want him to be proud of me, to love me for being good. And I did appear perfect; intelligent, athletic, talented, attractive, well-mannered. I ticked all the boxes. There was just one little problem, which my dad still didn't know about: I was gay.<p>

Dylan Bradburn was one of the only other gay guys at school that I knew of. There was only a handful of out gays and lesbians, and who knows how many still in the closet. I was still in the closet, I couldn't bring myself to come out to anyone. Even Dylan didn't know, and he was my best friend. We were both actors and had quickly bonded since the start of freshman year just a few months ago. I loved talking about films and award shows with him – he harboured a secret passion for Zac Efron and would rave on for hours about everything Zac related. It was adorable to be honest, and it was hilarious to watch when he had a 'fanboy' moment.

"Mom, Dad! I'm going to the show, be back later!" I called as I heard Dylan honk his car horn for me. I slid out the front door and jogged down the long gravel driveway to get to the red Range Rover.

"Sup Blanderson!" the brunette grinned as he watched me haul myself up into the car (Range Rovers are pretty big, y'know.)

"Not much, Dylburn" I replied, leaning my hand over to fist bump his. We'd established the nicknames ever since a substitute teacher read my name out weirdly, and it had stuck. I looked over at him and smiled. Dylan was taller than me, nearing six-foot, but he wasn't too lanky or over muscled: he was toned and athletic from dance. His brown hair fell across his forehead and his blonde highlights needed re doing, and his green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at me.

"Nice face" he sniggered, starting the car with a roar. Although gay, Dylan wasn't stereotypically into fashion but he still had a fantastic eye for style. As always he appraised my outfit, looking for a good comment. If I got a good comment, I knew I was sorted.

"Why do you never wear socks? I mean, you have cute ankles and all but still…" he questioned, pulling out into the main road.

"I don't know…I like the breeze?" I shrugged, chuckling softly. "Cool shirt by the way" I added.

"Thanks, picked it up dirt cheap. Dairy Queen still pays like crap" he replied, flashing me a smile. "Lucky you with a budget on tap, no Blizzards for you" the brunette teased.  
>I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing he didn't mean that nastily. True I did have a big budget and had no real need for a job. But I liked to think I wasn't cocky about it. Nobody liked an asshole, right?<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey, fag." The biggest asshole of them all, Cameron Walker, snickered as soon as Dylan and I walked into the green room.<p>

I could feel Dylan tense up beside me so I gently steered him away from the cocky blonde idiot.

"Ignore him, he's pathetic" I mumbled, patting his arm slightly. I didn't really know what to say. That was my nightmare: being pointed out as soon as I walked in a room. School was full of people like Cameron Walker and that was one of the main reasons I remained firmly in the closet. That didn't mean I was cowardly, I just had my best interests in mind, right?

"I know..I'm just so tired of it" he replied quietly, his whole body slumping. He really did look defeated; I'd never seen Dylan look so down hearted before.

"Hey, relax…it'll be fine. Just concentrate on putting on a good show" I patted his back and smiled at him. "Can't have our villain freaking out on us" I continued as I pulled away and headed into the dressing room.

Sounds of applause filled my ears as we all left the stage after the curtain call. As soon as we got backstage, everyone started cheering and shouting. All the girls were hugging and guys fist bumping each other. I even saw Cameron smile in Dylan's direction. For once, everyone was getting along.

"Hey Blaine, you were really amazing out there," Gemma Johnson called out to me as soon as things quieted down. She winked at me before walking away with her friends giggling.  
>I smiled to myself: Gemma was a sweet girl, and if I had liked girls and not guys, I would have probably had a crush on her.<p>

A few girls smiled and giggled as I walked out of the building later. I'd changed back into my normal clothes: black pants that ended just above my ankle, white slip on shoes and a red tee-shirt. The make up was gone and my hair was in its usual free , untameable state. I waved goodbye to some of my friends as they left, congratulating everyone on their performance. Dylan walked out last, clothes askew and brown hair dishevelled. That didn't worry me too much, it was the look of terror in his eyes that panicked me.

"Dylan? What happened?" I asked worriedly as I hurried over to him.

"T-they stole my Zefron book…a-and ripped it up.." he whispered, looking down at the side-walk. Dylan kept a little notebook which he wrote things about Zac Efron – it was like his diary. I gasped softly as I envisioned the pages falling to the ground and pictured the look of agony on Dylan's face.

"Oh, Dyl," I said quietly, pulling him in for a hug without even thinking about it. I held him against me as he shook, rubbing his back gently. We stood like that for a few moments until something caused us to leap apart.

"That your boyfriend, faggot? Your beloved Efron wouldn't have you?" a cold voice taunted from the doorway.

I looked over at Cameron Walker in disgust, shaking my head slowly. I couldn't let myself get angry. I had to be polite and good and set an example and-

"Why don't you just fuck off, Cameron?" I growled, the words out of my mouth without me realising.

"Blaine, please-" Dylan pleaded, grabbing my arm and beginning to back away.

"Yeah that's right, walk away" the idiot smirked. For a moment, I'd seen a look of fear on his face but he had quickly hidden it. "Go bum each other or whatever the hell it is you gays do."

If Dylan hadn't dragged me away, I might have just killed Cameron Walker.

* * *

><p>The moment I was seated and strapped down in Dylan's car, I slumped against the window. I was disappointed in myself; I had been so, so close to punching Cameron. This wasn't who my father raised me to be, I couldn't allow myself to stoop to the level of the Neanderthals like Cameron. I took a deep breath as Dylan started the car, trying not to show him how freaked out and angry I was.<p>

"Why did you do that? You didn't have to say anything, you just made him mad…" Dylan looked over at me, his eyebrows furrowed above his green eyes.

I sighed softly and looked back at him, chewing on my lower lip. I so badly wanted to tell him why Cameron had made me so mad. But that would mean coming out to the world, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that yet.

"Sorry, Dyl…it just…it got to me," I replied quietly, keeping my gaze steadily out at the lit up buildings as he drove down the high street.

"Why? It happens to me all the time, you shouldn't let it bother you, Blaine" my best friend replied, his voice expressing concern. He must suspect something.

I just shrugged and looked out at the stores and people walking down the streets. I saw so many happy couples, it made me sick. All a girl and boy, there was no sight of two boys walking hand in hand or two girls stealing a kiss underneath a street light.

"Why is this world so damn unfair?" I asked desperately, not sure who exactly I was addressing. "Why can't people just leave others alone, it's nobody's business if I like boys or not!" I ranted, glaring out at the blissfully happy couples outside.

The car suddenly ground to a halt and I looked over at Dylan, wondering why he had suddenly stopped. I raised my eyebrow as he stared at me with a look of utter bewilderment on his tanned face.

"Say what?"

"What?" I replied, chuckling a little to make light of the situation.

"You just…you just said you liked boys?.." he said slowly, the statement coming out as a question as if he wasn't sure about what he was saying. Shit.

"Uh…um…" I was at a loss for words, something which didn't happen very often, and I just looked out of the window again to avoid his piercing emerald stare.

"Blaine?"

"Just keep driving, Dylan. Please" I whispered, closing my eyes. I couldn't deal with this. I couldn't come out. I was too scared. I knew Dylan wouldn't tell anyone but I worried about the rumours and what everyone would think. I took a deep shuddering breath as Dylan wordlessly started the car again and continued driving.

* * *

><p>"Here we are then," Dylan said hesitantly, looking over at me slowly. I'd been staring resolutely out of the window for the past ten minutes, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do.<p>

"Blaine. I'm sorry, it just sounded like…" he trailed off as I turned to look at him. I met his green eyes with my golden ones, searching for an answer somewhere. He stared right back, gulping slightly.

"If I said something wrong, I'm really sorry Blaine. But you're one of my only friends and I didn't mean anything, I-" the brown-haired, Zac Efron obsessed boy stopped talking as I cleared my throat. Here goes nothing.

"Dylan. Don't apologise" I mumbled quietly, taking a deep breath to compose myself. I needed to get this fear out of my mind. Come on Blaine Anderson, you can do this.

Two full minutes later, I slowly parted my lips again. My throat was dry and I could feel my hands shaking from where they lay in my lap. I bit my lip and then just spoke loudly and clearly so he could understand straight away.

"Dylan, I'm gay."

I watched anxiously as Dylan's face twisted with a hundred emotions in a few seconds. Shock, disbelief, worry, fear, happiness, and finally a smile spread across his face.

"I'm so glad you told me, Blaine," he whispered as he leaned across the space between us to wrap me in a tight hug. I was a little surprised but hugged him back, a small smile creeping upon my lips as he held me. I had never doubted that Dylan would be anything less than supportive, but I was still – irrationally – worried that he would somehow be angry or something.

"Me too" I replied quietly, slowly releasing my grip on the taller boy's shoulders.

"Just…uh, don't tell anyone…Not that I think you would!" I hastily added, my chapped lower lip between my teeth again.

"No problem, I swear I won't utter a single word to anyone," the brunette replied, smiling softly at me. I nodded lightly and smiled slightly, not sure whether to ask him for advice or not.

"Have..have you told your parents?" Dylan inquired before biting his lip. He had obviously thought about it and realised that my father would have kicked up a huge fuss if I'd told him. I certainly wouldn't have been allowed out tonight with Dylan.

"No…I don't know how to break it to them. It would…my father wouldn't be happy" I answered quickly, not wanting to make my father out as horrible or anything. He was just a little old-fashioned in his thinking, I decided, and of course he would accept me when I told him.

"You have to tell them Blaine. You have to do it, don't be scared," Dylan urged, gently squeezing my shoulder whilst I got ready to get out.

I opened the door and jumped out onto the ground, turning briefly back at my best friend with a nod. "I will."

I shut the door with a slam and a worried glance at the front door of my house.

**[Apologies for any formatting issues, I'm still getting used to everything. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and please leave me a review regardless of whether you liked it or not. I really appreciate any constructive criticism :)]**


	2. Chapter 2: Sick Little Games

**[AN: Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter! The next one should be up not long after Christmas :D A huge thanks to _._ for leaving su****ch a lovely review! It means a lot, so thanks. :) To everyone that reads, please leave a review and let me know what you think. Warning for language and homophobic language :)]**

That night I planned out exactly what I wanted to say to my parents, I got it down to the tiniest detail. In the end, I wasn't brave enough to go through with it. My dreams that night were more like nightmares; desperately running from phantoms of my parents, hearing the disappointment of my father and I could see the look of disbelief on my mothers face. I was glad when I woke up.

I straightened the collar of my red sweater and tweaked the hem so my dark jeans were perfectly aligned, assessing my appearance in my full length bedroom mirror. Katy Perry's beautiful voice played out quietly from my stereo.

"Cause you're hot and you're cold, you're yes then you're no..." I sang to myself as I gathered all my school things into my messenger bag.

'Hakuna matata, it means no worries for the rest of your days.'

The song suddenly began to play from my phone. I grabbed it from my nightstand to see I had a text from Dylan.

'See you in Algebra! Have you said anything to your parents yet? Much love, D :)'

I read the text over twice and smiled softly. I felt bad that I hadn't said anything to my parents, but maybe I could say something tonight. Dylan was being so unbelievably supportive: Efron was missing out on a lot. I pushed my iPhone into the pocket of my jeans and slung my bag over my shoulder as I walked down from my attic bedroom, down the stairs to the lounge. I never usually ate breakfast so I planned to just head straight to school.

* * *

><p>"Blaine?" I was almost at the front door when my mother appeared in the doorway to the lounge. My mom was a short woman, which was unfortunately where I got my short stature from, and had her long dark hair pulled into an elaborate braid. I'd never seen her look anything less than amazing, even if she was just doing housework or cooking.<p>

"Yes, mom?" I replied as she walked towards me.

"Need a ride to school? I'm heading into town anyway," she smiled as I nodded lightly. Maybe I could tell her duri-no, that wasn't part of my plan.

"Sure, thanks mom" I smiled and held the door open for her, stepping out after my mom had passed through.

We walked down to my mother's car, which was thankfully a Mini Cooper. It was tiny in comparision to Dylan's huge Rover. Although my father loved cars, my mom wasn't too fussed and was content with her little red Mini. I loved the car, it smelt of home and memories from my childhood. We both got in and my mom started to drive, making small talk as we drove.

"So, Blaine, how's Dylan?" my mom asked conversationally, as we stopped at some traffic.

"Fine...why?" I answered slowly, starting to worry that she suspected something.

"Just asking. Maybe he could come over for dinner tonight?" she suggested, smiling over at me.

"Really? Wouldn't Dad mind?" I was surprised she was suggesting this. I had made a point of not having Dylan over when my parents were in. I was worried about what my dad would say; my father had never been very good at being tactful.

"Of course not, Dylan's your best friend. And it would be nice to finally meet him," Mom replied with a smile, glancing over at the school as she pulled up outside.

"Ok, I'll ask him. Thanks Mom" I smiled, quickly leaning over to peck her cheek before I got out. She waved at me as she drove away. I smiled to myself and headed into school. Maybe today would go pretty well.

* * *

><p>Algebra was the first class of the day which I was with Dylan for. I spotted him the moment I got through the door, but for all the wrong reasons. I immediately recognised the floppy brown hair and the designer sports bag slung over his back sitting at the back of the class. That was normal, but the huge gang of people crowded around him wasn't. I frowned and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, pushing my way through the crowd to reach him. It seemed like just about everyone in the class was there, gathered around his desk.<p>

"Just leave me alone! I-I haven't done anything wrong!" I heard Dylan whimper as I pushed my way forward. He looked upset, his hands were shaking slightly as he desperately looked around at everyone.

"Cameron saw you hugging Anderson. You're trying to turn him gay, aren't you?" one of Cameron's idiot buddies smirked.

"Yeah, you just have a huge, creepy gay crush on him, don't you?" another laughed, earning giggles from a lot of the girls stood around.

"As if, Blaine's completely straight," one of the girls who I knew had a crush on me insisted, blushing.

"Exactly!" Cameron Walker suddenly appeared at the front of the crowd, a huge smirk on his face. "So just go sprinkle your gay fairy dust somewhere else. Blaine doesn't want you, nobody wants you, you pathetic piece of shit."

"What the hell is going on?" I interjected, glaring around at the crowd. Many of them avoided my eyes, obviously feeling guilty that they'd been caught standing around while the conversation went on. "Well?"

Dylan looked up at me, looking half grateful that I was there, and half terrified that something even worse would be said. I could see the tears glistening in his eyes.  
>"We were just..." Cameron looked at me, trailing off as he saw the look of anger in my face. I could feel my jaw set, my eyes narrow and my fists clench. Breathe, Blaine.<p>

"You were harrassing Dylan, that's what you were just doing" I seethed, flashing a slighty smile over at my best friend before glaring back at Cameron and the rest of his pathetic friends. "For one, that is just low. Is your life so fucked up you need to find joy in bringing others down?"

Silence as what I'd dared to say filled the air.

"Secondly, at least he's brave enough to be who he is. Yet you decide to cut him down everyday just because you can. And finally -" I paused to look around at everyone in the crowd. I met everyone's eyes coolly before I spoke. "It's none of your business, none of anyone's business, about who or what I am. So lay off or I may just have to introduce my fist to your face."

Cameron Walker looked speechless. He spluttered, his eyes looking around for one of his friends to defend him. I just watched as he floundered for a few seconds, finally attempting to pull himself together.

"Whatever, Anderson..." he muttered.

I stayed still as the crowd slowly dispersed, taking my usual seat beside Dylan as everyone settled down. I glanced over at him and smiled weakly, not really knowing what to say. He was looking at me with tears still in his eyes, a look of awe on his face. I raised my eyebrows and mouthed 'what?'.

"You...thank you Blaine. You have so much courage, more than I can ever have," he said quietly, smiling slightly at me. I rolled my eyes and shrugged, looking down at the desk.

"Yeah, no problem" I replied. I wasn't courageous. I couldn't bring myself to tell my parents that I was gay, and there was no way I'd come out to the school. I reached down to my bag and pulled my pen out.

"Hey, Anderson" Cameron's unmistakable cocky voice called out to me. I slowly looked over at him, fighting the anger that rose up inside me as I looked at his ugly smirking mouth. "You basically just admitted that you're gay. So just come out with it, then everyone will know about you and Bradburn."

I froze. I physically couldn't move. My hand was frozen in midair, just about to place my pen down on the table. My throat ran dry and I began to feel lightheaded. No, no, no. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"Oh my god," the jerk's voice had changed, sounded shocked. "I was only kidding. Guys, Anderson's gay!" he yelled. I could feel the eyes of everyone on me. I began to burn under the stares, my breathing hitching. I was freaking out. I didn't know what to say.

"H-hey," Dylan bravely called out, trying to save me. "He, he's not gay, pssht!"

Slowly I willed my body to move. I shook my head agonisignly slowly, every fibre in my body burning in embarrassment and fear. I knew what I had to do.

"I am," I choked out, my voice coming out hoarse. I registered the look of shock on the majority of the other students faces, the smirks from a few and a few heartbroken stares from some girls. I took a shuddering breath then slowly lowered my pen to the desk.

Much too late, the teacher walked in. He called the class to attention, blissfully unaware of what had just happened. Every now and then, people would turn around and look at me but I kept my gaze firmly forward, refusing to focus on any of the expressions. Dylan didn't say a word, perhaps realising that I was in a trance and that I couldn't - not wouldn't, physically couldn't - reply or even nod. I knew that the minute I stepped out after class, the news would already be spreading. Soon everyone would know that I was gay. I wasn't ashamed of who I was, but I was still trying to figure out how to tell my parents. Now possibly hundreds of my friends and peers knew before my parents.

* * *

><p>Lunch was a nightmare. Imagine your worst possible fear and multiply it by the number of people watching as you freak out about it. I hadn't wanted to eat in the cafeteria, for obvious reasons; everyone went there. But I had to buy food, and Dylan tried to convince me that it was actually a good idea to 'face up to everyone'. I didn't believe a word of it, yet I still walked through the double doors into the fiery pits of hell. The moment my dark blue canvas shoe set down on the cafeteria floor, a hundred heads turned to look at me. Their accusing eyes burned through me, my cheeks flushing dark crimson as they all stared. It was like I was a circus act they'd all come to watch, and I was now expected to perform. I shuffled over to the line, keeping my eyes firmly on the linoleum floor as people shied away from me. I picked up a tray, ignoring Dylan's reassuring words from behind me and focused on just getting my food and getting out. The queue edged forward slowly, the tension building by the second. I just knew my audience was waiting for something to happen. I could almost hear them all holding their breath. I slowly picked up a bag of ready salted chips and an apple from the tray. I placed them on my tray and picked up a can of Minute Maid apple juice, adding it to my collection. Eventually I reached the part of the service where you told the dinner attendents what sandwiches you wanted or whatever. My throat felt as rough as sandpaper, and dry as a desert.<p>

"I-uh..." I cleared my throat quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself if possible.

"J-just a ham and cheese sandwich, please," I mumbled, smiling a little as the lady handed it to me.

I paid for my food and turned to face the cafeteria. All of the tables occupants were staring at me, some whispering to each other, but most had simply stopped in their tracks to look at me. I stood for a few moments, feeling frozen to the spot by the pressure of their gaze.

"Fag." I looked around for the person who had just shouted it out, and wasn't surprised to see Cameron Walker smirking back at me. He was seated at the 'jock' table, with the guys who could easily knock me out with a single blow. Although Cameron was hardly considered a jock; he hadn't even made the first string on the football team, they accepted him. I had never been able to fathom out why, but now I was perfectly clear: they were all grade A assholes.

"Gay boy!" one of Cameron's jock buddies yelled out, grinning.

"Like it up the ass, hu?" another laughed, nudging some of his friends.

The cafeteria turned into a battleground of insults, all directed towards me and Dylan, who had come to stand beside me. I couldn't listen to this anymore, I felt like I was going to faint. Even my so-called friends were sitting there laughing. Nobody came to our defence.

"Come on Blaine, let's go eat somewhere else," Dylan urged quietly, tugging on my red sweatered arm lightly to make me move. I so badly wanted to walk right up to every single one of these idiots and hit them. But I had to be good, had to remain in control. Maybe if I didn't react, my dad would still love me for being strong. Maybe.

"Let's go," I replied with a nod, stuffing my food into my bag and discarding the tray on a table as I walked out. Dylan was close by me the whole time, shielding me from the full glare and barrage of insults.

* * *

><p>We ate in one of the art rooms, which were always kept unlocked in case anyone wanted to work on their projects at breaks. Nobody ever did. This made them a great place to go if you wanted somewhere quiet at lunch, if you knew about them. Dylan pulled me into the room after checking it was empty, and we settled onto the floor in the corner. I knew that if I sat on a chair, I'd simply collapse and drop to the ground. I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the dull off-white ceiling.<p>

"I hate my life" I mumbled, closing my eyelids, just to try and calm my mind. I wanted utter blackness, not this crazy storm of emotions and thoughts racing through my brain.

"Don't say that. People are just ignorant idiots," Dylan replied, leaning against me slightly and patting my knee. "You did a really brave thing, Blaine. I know it wasn't ideal, and wasn't good timing, but at least you don't have to hide any more."

I opened my eyes as I slowly looked over at him and raised one of my infamous eyebrows. "What are we doing right now, Dyl? Hiding, that's what," I stated bitterly, gesturing at the empty room with one hand. "Look at us! Just sat here, like we did something wrong!" I continued, the anger rising in me as I reflected on what had just happened. "We didn't do anything wrong! Just because we're gay, what is people's problem!"

I sighed and slumped down further, groaning at the helplessness of it all. This was my life now, and I just had to get used to it.

Dylan didn't reply to my outburst and simply pulled out his home-made egg and cress sandwiches and began to eat. I sighed softly before making a start on my own food. We ate in comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Just as I was finishing off my apple juice, Dylan spoke.

"They're the ones with the problem, not us. I've had to deal with these...Neanderthals since 8th grade, Blaine. I figured out who I was early on but I was stupid enough to tell people. We may only be fifteen, but we can rise above it, trust me" he smiled wryly and shrugged.

"Why do we have to live in a world of Cameron Walker's?" I mused aloud as I leaned my head on Dylan's shoulder for a moment.

"I'm not even going to pretend to know," he chuckled, resting his brunette hair against my own black hair. "But just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

"Promise?" I sat up straight and looked at him seriously.

"I promise" he nodded.

"No," I insisted, holding out my hand and extending my little finger towards him. "You have to pinky promise, and you can't break a pinky promise." I continued to look at him seriously, raising my eyebrows. Yes it was dumb, but I just really wanted a concrete promise that I had someone on my side.

"I, Dylan Blackburn"- he began, smiling softly as he twisted his little finger with mine "-pinky promise that I will be there for you, Blaine Anderson, through everything, always."  
>"And I, Blaine Anderson-" I continued, looking down at our intertwined fingers "-pinky promise that I will always be there for you, Dylan Blackburn, through every little thing."<br>We released our little fingers and smiled at each other.

"Thanks Dyl."

"Just being a friend," he shrugged with a smile that soon turned serious. "Are you going to tell your parents?"

"Yes" I replied slowly. "You wanna come around to my house tonight?"

"Really?" Dylan's green eyes widened in surprise before he smiled tentatively. "I mean, sure, awesome... but weren't you going to tell them tonight?" he asked in confusion.

"Exactly" I replied with a nod and a smile. If I was going to do this, I would need all the moral support I could get.


	3. Chapter 3: On The Line

**[AN: Hey guys! Huge thanks again to . for reviewing :3 I had forgotten that Blaine and Dylan were only freshman, which makes the fact that he had a car pretty weird, so I just tried to justify it somehow, forgive me for not being totally in the loop about things like that. I'm not from the US so I have no idea what kind of age teens can drive there xD Warnings for some language and homophobia. Let me know what you think by leaving me a review!**

**Hope everyone had a great new year! :D]**

At the end of the school day - the worst school day of my entire life - Dylan and I had to complete the next obstacle of getting across the parking lot. Most of the people in my school drove: the town had a pretty lenient view on the age of drivers: hence the reason at least half of the freshman had cars. We made it across the crowded expanse of concrete quickly and soon reached Dylan's Rover parked in the corner of the lot. As we'd walked, heads had turned and whispers had begun, person after person spilling out the rumours. I did my best to ignore it but still felt a huge wave of relief wash over me as we reached the Rover.

"Straight to yours?" Dylan asked quietly as we climbed inside. I debated for a few moments as I did up my seatbelt.

"Yeah, that's easiest. And my parents won't be back straight away so we can go on the X Box or something" I replied with a shrug. I was playing it casual but I was really worried about what my family would be like towards Dylan. I'd never had him over but I'd been to his a few times.

"Ok, sounds good" he answered casually, but I could sense the note of anxiety laced in his tone. "I'll try not to crush you too hard at Call Of Duty."

I laughed and pushed his arm playfully, rolling my eyes and snorting. He grinned and stuck his tongue out at me before turning his attention to driving as we drove out of the school and towards my house.

* * *

><p>"Dude, move! I'm about to di-why didn't you move?" I yelled as I rapidly pushed the buttons on my controller, sighing in exasperation as my character died.<p>

"Sorry! A bunch of those zombies came at me!" Dylan replied, groaning when the screen went black, his character dying too.

"You suck at COD! Seriously, I could beat you in my_ sleep_!" I groaned, concentrating on shooting a ton of zombies as I ranted.

"Excuse me for trying to play _strategically_ and not just randomly waving my AK-47 around" he retorted, deftly shooting a zombie whilst he spoke.

I just rolled my eyes and concentrated on the game, biting my lip and smashing the buttons in frustration. Did the zombies ever stop? Ok, we were on round 22 on kino de toten, but this was just ridiculous.

"Dyl, shoot! No, not camping out, shoot the goddamn gun!" I shouted, pointing frantically at the screen.

"I'm shooting, ok?" he growled in reply, his hands shaking from the force of which he was hitting the buttons.

"Yes!" we screamed in unison as we got up to round 23, our best ever between us. We high fived and burst out laughing.

* * *

><p>"Blaine?"<p>

"In my room with Dylan!" I called out in response to my mothers shout. She must have just got in from work: I glanced up at the clock and saw that it was nearly five so she must have come straight back.

"Dinners ready soon! And your father will be back in ten minutes!" she replied, her voice easily reaching us up in my attic bedroom. I shouted back an 'OK' before turning back to the X Box. It was only after a few minutes of slaying zombies that I realised Dylan wasn't playing. Pausing the game, I turned my body round to where the brunette was laying back on my bed. I furrowed my eyebrows together at the look of worry evident on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked with a frown.

"I just..." he paused and ran his hand through his floppy bangs before continuing. "What if...what if your parents don't like me?" he finished in a small voice, chewing at his bottom lip.

"Of course they'll like you" I replied automatically. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "My mom will definitely like you, don't worry. And I'm sure my dad will too."

He still looked unconvinced so I smiled reassuringly and pulled him into a sitting position by his arm. Dylan looked at me, his green eyes still looking worried.

"Stop pouting, you look like a little lost puppy" I scolded as I pulled him into a hug, smiling when I felt him returning the squeeze.

"Everything's going to go well tonight" I stated firmly, to reassure myself as much as to reassure him.

* * *

><p>Everything did seem to go well, to begin with. We went downstairs, my mom warmly greeting Dylan with a hug and a fond remark about how thin he was. He smiled and I could see how happy he was to be liked by my mother; I was happy too, of course. My mom knew Dylan was gay and she was treating him just how she treated anyone and that gave me hope for her reaction when I came out. Dylan gasped as he saw all the food my mother had prepared, his eyes gleaming as he realised she had made it specially for his visit. I knew how much this acceptance meant to him and it gave me hope for when my father arrived. Maybe things would go well, after all.<p>

Just after we all sat down around the long oak dining table, my father strode in. He was dressed in one of his many smart suits, crisp and clean cut, just the way he wanted me to be too. At first he just strolled in as usual but then he noticed Dylan.

"Honey, this is Dylan, Blaine's friend," my mom explained gently, gesturing for my father to sit down. He nodded briefly before sitting at the head of the table, pride of place.

"So, uh, Dylan" he cleared his throat as he looked over the brunette dancer who sat beside me. "You're friends with Blaine?"

"Uh, yes, sir. Since first day of freshman year" Dylan replied quietly, looking nervous. I knew he wanted to make a good expression and I shot him a smile. My father nodded and took a bite of his food, which was the signal for us all to do the same.

After a few minutes of silence, my mother began to make small talk, obviously trying to get Dad to warm up to my best friend.

"So, Dylan, what kind of things do you enjoy doing? I hear you're in theatre with Blaine?" she smiled warmly between mouthfuls of chicken.

"Yeah" he replied enthusiastically "I love acting, and I also dance too."

"Ooh, are you trained?" Mom asked.

"In ballet and jazz, yes," Dylan smiled with a shrug.

"He's really good too" I added, shooting a look at my father who continued to eat in silence. "Offered to teach me once but I tripped over my own feet-"

"-and bought me crashing down on top of him too" Dylan finished, rolling his eyes. We both started to laugh, my mom smiling too.

"I always thought ballet was for girls and gays" my father broke in casually, not seeming to notice the tense silence that fell as soon as he spoke. Mom coughed and looked down uncomfortably. Dylan and I stared at each other. He looked completely shocked, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. I knew my expression mirrored his.

"_Dad_" I hissed after a few seconds, appalled by his behaviour. How could he say something like that? He didn't know Dylan was gay - I hadn't told him - but he obviously guessed. I just couldn't believe he would come out with a suggestive comment like that.

"Actually, uh," Dylan blushed and looked down at his plate "I-I am gay, actually, sir..."

"My point exactly," my father replied, narrowing his eyes and not looking at Dylan. "Must have been the ballet that triggered it."

* * *

><p>"Enough!"<p>

The past ten minutes had been awful, with my mom trying to just serve more food to keep everyone quiet, Dylan staring down at his plate and myself glaring in horror as my father dropped comment after comment. Finally, I couldn't take it any more.

"What?" my father said coolly, looking at me. He had his stern expression on, every ounce of him daring me to defy him.

"Enough, Dad, just stop, please! Stop with this stupid comments, you're being really mean! And it's not gentlemanly to insult a guest."

I could barely believe I was saying these things. I had never dared stand up to my father. I just went along with whatever he had planned for me. But he was sat here, insulting my best friend on purpose. And, unknowingly, insulting me too.

"Blaine Richard Anderson, how_ dare_ you talk to me like that?" my father growled, his whole face contorted with fury. "This is my house and I will not tolerate that tone of voice, especially with _guests_ in the house" he continued, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm at the word 'guests'. He clearly didn't view Dylan as a guest, more of an unwanted burden and a waste of his time.

"Now, Johnathan, calm down," my mother mumbled, reaching out a hand to lay on my fathers arm, trying to calm him down. He shook off her hand and glared at me and Dylan, who was still staring down at his half empty plate. I couldn't see his face as it was covered by his floppy brown hair but I could see the tenseness of his shoulders and the slight shaking of his hands. I hated seeing my best friend like that and knowing it was my own father causing him pain teared me up even more.

"I don't care, I'm trying to stand up for my friend-"

"I can't believe you consider that...anomaly as a friend, Blaine. I thought I had raised you better than that" my father cut in, barely disguising his hatred for Dylan. Or, more specifically, his hatred for gay people.

"Dad! Would you just shut your ignorant mouth for one minute and listen to me?" I retorted, surprised when he did actually shut up. I took a deep breath and looked around the table. My father was glaring at me, tapping his fingers on the table. My mother was looking at me in concern, frowning slightly. My best friend had finally looked up from the table and was looking at me, an unreadable emotion on his face. I took a deep breath and looked back at my father.

"I would really appreciate that you stop making those homophobic comments" I said quietly, somehow keeping my voice under control. I couldn't go through with this, I couldn't...but I had to. My voice shaking, I continued quietly. "It's insulting and I will not have anyone insult my best friend and...well, it's insulting to me too."

I could see the concentration on his face as my father worked out what I meant by he was insulting me too. His face changed from blank and impassive to one of shock and disgust.

"What?" he asked harshly, as though he wanted to check he was right before saying anything else.

"Mom, Dad.." I looked at each of them. "I-I'm gay."

"No, you're not," my father replied straight away, his voice cold as ice. "I didn't raise you this way for you to suddenly decide you want to throw it all away by saying you're...you're gay."

"Honey, it's not a choice...can't you just accept it?" my mom interjected quietly. Although she sounded supportive when I looked at her she wouldn't meet my eyes. I knew she was shocked and I just knew she was disappointed too, at least a little bit.

"S-sir, being gay is not a choice..sir..." Dylan spoke for the first time since the ballet comment, sounding nervous but he smiled slightly at me. That little smile meant everything; it meant I was doing the right thing.

"No! I will_ not_ have a gay son!" my father snarled, glaring at both me and Dylan with eyes filled with disgust. "That's it, isn't it?" his voice dropped dangerously quiet. "Dylan here has convinced you that you're gay, he's trying to ruin you...he's jealous of everything you have, Blaine."

That was it. I had let my fathers ignorant tirade go on long enough.

"Nobody made me gay, it's just the way I was born. You can either accept that and support me, or continue in your quest to win 'Worlds Stupidest Homophobe'. Your choice, but I'm not sticking around to hear the decision." I spoke calmly and slowly, standing up as I finished. I walked out of the room, hearing Dylan follow me and my father splutter in disbelief.

* * *

><p>"Blaine?" I looked up from the Katy Perry biography I was reading at the sound of the voice. It was nearly ten, and Dylan had left soon after the shambles of a dinner. We'd been texting since he got home, but neither of us seemed keen to discuss what had happened. It was amazing how much small talk we'd managed to come up with in the past few hours. I'd seen just how much of an asshole Johnathan Anderson really was; I wished he wasn't my father and that I could have a nice, supportive, caring father like Dylan's.<p>

"Blaine, sweetie?" Mom. Of course it was, my dad had gone storming out as soon as Dylan left. Probably drinking the last few hours away in a pub somewhere. Not that I cared; as far as I was concerned it wouldn't bother me if he didn't come back ever.

"Yes?" I replied tiredly. I really didn't feel like talking with my mom right now, I just wanted to finish reading this chapter and go to sleep.

"I brought up some hot chocolate..it has those little marshmallows you like." My mom walked up the stairs, her dark hair appearing beside the railings as she walked up. I sat up slightly from where I was laying on my bed to take the offered mug of steaming hot chocolate. As I took a sip she sat down on the edge of my bed, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Are you sure?" She broke the silence after a minute or so, turning to look at me.

"Yes. You think I'd say it to Dad if I wasn't sure?" I replied wryly.

"I just wanted to check, honey," she replied diplomatically, smiling slightly. "I'm happy for you, that you found the strength to tell us. Of course, it's not what I expected, but I do support you, Blaine."

Tears sprang to the surface at her words and I smiled weakly at her.

"Thanks Mom, it means a lot" I replied quietly.

"No problem sweetie. Now get to sleep soon, school tomorrow" Mom smiled and leaned over to kiss my cheek as I did the same.

"I will, goodnight."

She got up to leave but paused at the top of the stairs. She turned to look at me, her intricate braided bun falling out around her face and her hazel eyes tight with worry.  
>"Goodnight. And Blaine, try not to listen to your father. He just wants the best for you, but doesn't know when to stop planning and just be a dad."<p>

She smiled softly and walked downstairs, her footsteps quiet on the carpet. I sighed and placed my mug down on my nightstand. I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to sleep well tonight.

**[A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think! **

**Also, I didn't know if Blaine has a canon middle name so I just decided on Richard - it does have a meaning so that's why I chose it, it might come up later. xD]**


	4. Chapter 4: Fuel To The Fire

**[Warning for language and homophobia.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Blaine Anderson. Dylan Blackburn and any other original characters belong to me.]**

It wasn't until a few weeks after the coming out fiasco that I finally really understood what it meant for me. At home, my father didn't speak to me, unless it was some command.  
>"Pass the salt, Blaine."<br>"Be back by 10."  
>I was surprised we were still having dinner together at all; you could cut the tension with a butter knife. But I knew my mom was trying to keep things as normal as possible so I sill trudged downstairs every night, siting as far away from my father as I could. It wasn't ideal and I hated the sudden abruptness of the departure of a father figure in my life, but I dealt with it. After all, you can't pick your family, right?<p>

At school, guys who I used to count as friends were suddenly shunning me or outright saying things. I knew that I was a hot topic in the hallways. It was crazy; a little freshman like me, causing seniors to stare. Cameron Walker and his friends were among the worst. Not content with simply ignoring me, they bombarded me with insults and innuendos. One day in science, we were doing some experiment involving cucumbers. They somehow found the need to pretend to be having gay sex with the vegetables, all the while looking over at me with a smirk. I tried to laugh it off as much as possible, but Dylan had to suffer along with me and he didn't cope as well as I. Growing up I had gotten used to hiding my feelings and putting on a smile so this was just like another visit to the country club for me. Dylan was very much the person to wear his heart on his sleeve and all his emotions clear on his face. Every time we were shoved in the hallways, his face crumpled slightly for a moment. He always pulled himself together but I knew how much it was hurting him. When it had just been him as the out gay, he had received the taunts and insults, but to a lesser degree. Whether this was because everyone thought he was an anomaly, one in a million, or that I was somehow protecting him. I wasn't extremely popular but I had just enough status as a rich, straight, smart guy to deter the attention. Now, with both of us together and nobody to protect us, we came to learn how cruel people really could be.

* * *

><p>I had always enjoyed playing sports, although I despised basketball (It just wasn't fair to have a sport you could only play if you were tall!) I was actually pretty good at soccer; something about a low centre of gravity or whatever. So, despite all that had been going on over the past three weeks, I was looking forward to the friendly soccer game during P.E. Playing made me concentrate solely on getting a goal or passing at the right time, or not losing control of the ball. I didn't have chance to think about anything else. It was an escape, even if only for a short while.<p>

The match started off perfectly fine, the team all pumping each other up in the locker rooms before we went out. For a surreal three minutes I was treated as one of the guys again. I was mildly irritated when some idiot thought it would be fun to try and push me into the girls changing rooms with the exclamation that "fairies" would fit in better there. I just brushed it off; I had to play well. In midfield, I wasn't especially crucial up front or defending. Just comfortably in the middle, poised to seize any opportunity as it came. The game began with the other team - from a nearby school - largely in possession. They ran rings around us and we spent ten minutes just hopelessly following the ball in the hopes of a lucky touch. I was focused on the game and soon slipped into my leadership mind. I couldn't help it: I had always had an inexplicable need to control if I was part of a group, and soccer was one of those times. All my senses heightened, I spotted an opportunity as the other teams striker stumbled.  
>"Cam, get it! Pass to Will!" I yelled, jogging down the field. Cameron listened, probably not realising who was shouting, and neatly kicked the ball down towards the net. With a swift pass to Will on the other side, they managed to get in a perfect position to score. Cameron turned to wave at some of the girls who cheered when he had got the ball as Will dribbled down the pitch. Will passed back to Cameron, who looked around just as the ball came flying towards his crotch. With a loud thwack he crumpled to the ground, cursing and groaning so loudly I could hear it from half way down the pitch.<p>

The referee let out a high pitched screech on his whistle to pause play as he came over to check Cameron out. Seeing my main tormentor writhing on the ground should have filled me with joy, I supposed. But I felt terrible. I knew only too well how much that hurt. I felt sorry for Cameron Walker, something I'd never expected to feel in a million lifetimes. We had all huddled around as soon as he had fell to the ground, wondering what the verdict would be. His tanned face was red with pain, blonde hair tousled and muddy, his whole body scrunched into a tight ball. I could hear him whimpering but didn't get a clear view of his face as the referee pushed past me. He checked Cameron out before deeming him fit to play.  
>"Take a few minutes then back to play" he instructed, walking back a bit to discuss something with one of the line referees.<br>"Sorry, dude. I thought you were looking," Will mumbled, looking extremely apologetic. He was a big guy but didn't play football after a middle school shoulder injury, apparently. Still, seeing one of the biggest freshman I knew looking so humble was pretty funny. I quirked a smile just as Cameron looked up at me.  
>"This is all your fault,<em> fag<em>!" he hissed, spitting on the last word. His face grew as red as an old telephone box as his fury grew. "You set it up, didn't you? You're the one who told me to get the ball!" The rest of the team turned to glare at me, mindlessly accepting his words.  
>"No, I didn't!" I tried to explain, only to get shot down at his next words.<br>"Bet you loved seeing me down here on the ground. Bet you have a hard on just watching me," Cameron smirked.  
>"I don't think so," I retorted, horrified at the very idea. This seemed to irritate him even more and he rose quickly, advancing on me.<br>"'Course, fag. Your dream come true, isn't it? Surrounded by a bunch of sweaty guys," he added venomously. "Watch out in the locker room boys, Anderson will be checking you out!" he shouted. A few of the guys from the other team who were just standing around looked over at us. I could feel that my face had gone beet root red with embarrassment.  
>"Back in play!" the ref yelled, saving me from replying. I simply trailed into position, not able to get the looks of horror on my teammates faces out of my mind. Was I really that repulsive to people? Was I really that repulsive to people simply because I was gay?<p>

We won. Once upon a time I would have been over the moon, ecstatic with the 3-1 win. I'd have been shouting and cheering in the locker room, jumping up on the other guys shoulders, all of us giddy with the success. It wasn't often that we won, and although soccer wasn't as big of a deal as football was, winning was fundamental to your social standing. I'd have probably gone to some party someone was hosting and had a good time. Once upon a time. As things stood, we traipsed back into the locker room, everybody focusing on the ball to the crotch fiasco. I kept my eyes down and quickly crept across to my locker, wordlessly pulling everything out and slipping out of the room unnoticed. I knew exactly what would happen if I stayed and I wasn't going to put up with that. So I headed to the art rooms. The game had taken up our last lesson and the room would be empty, as it usually was. Ignoring the looks I got from a few stray students as I passed by in my sweaty soccer kit, I made my way to the little oasis of calm. Once inside, I locked the door, closed all the blinds and got changed as quickly as I could. I would have to shower as soon as I got home. With shaking fingers I put my dirty kit into my bag, closing my eyes tightly as I zipped up the bag. For the last time. I couldn't go through that again. I couldn't stand to have these people, these people who used to be my _friends_, look at me like I was worthless. Breathing deeply to calm myself, I swung the bag over my shoulder, unlocked the door and strode out of the halls. I kept my head high and my jaw locked as I walked back to the locker rooms, my gaze firmly forward as I passed through to the Coach's office. This wasn't just a P.E lesson: Everyone tried out for the various freshman only sports teams at the start of the year, and whichever one we got on, was the sport we did once a week. It also meant we were officially on a school sports team. It was probably unheard of to quit; everybody craved the social status that came with being on a sports team, even a freshman one. Steeling myself, I knocked on the door, waiting for a few seconds before Coach Callaghan called me inside. The tall former football player turned coach looked up at me from his desk, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion.  
>"Yes, Anderson?" he questioned, his eyes slipping from my normal clothes to the bag clutched in my hand.<br>"I-I quit." My voice broke slightly but I managed to come out sounding stronger and more confident than I really was.  
>"What?" Coach Callaghan now looked even more confused, his eyebrows furrowing together.<br>"I quit soccer. I quit the team. I'll go do...basketball or something" I continued, my voice trailing to little more than a whisper. Basketball, really, Blaine?  
>"You can't quit. It's in the curriculum," he protested.<br>"I'll figure something out."  
>"Blaine." He had now begun to chuckle. "Are you guys having a joke? Was it Cameron's idea? Well, you got me! I really thought you were go-"<br>"I quit, Coach," I interrupted, looking right at him. "I will not be harassed and made fun of here. Soccer's supposed to be fun but it isn't anymore."  
>"Are you having problems? We can sort something with the faculty, get some detentions?" Coach truly was flummoxed now. I could tell by the way his eyebrows were practically joined and the wrinkles on his forehead were like fissures in rock.<br>"No. I quit. Sorry." I slowly unclenched my hand and put the bag containing my soccer kit down on his desk before turning and walking out.

"Come to have a look at our asses, Anderson?" Cameron taunted as I walked back through the locker room. He was stood with a bunch of the guys, a towel around his waist and a smirk on his arrogant face.  
>"Yeah, yours is just the best I've ever seen. Fuck me?" I retorted coldly, sarcasm evident in the lack of emotion in my voice. I didn't bother turning to see his face; the spluttering and indignant sounds coming from behind me painted a clear enough picture. I simply allowed myself a small smirk as I passed through the doors, allowing them to slam shut behind me with a loud boom. OK, I could deal with this. I had quit soccer. They couldn't torment me in the locker rooms anymore. The next stage was the hallways. I could get through this. I was a survivor. And so I walked out of the school with that little smirk still present on my lips.<p>

* * *

><p>"What? Blaine, what did you just say?"<br>"You heard me," I replied calmly, deeply in contrast with Dylan's gasps of shock.  
>"N-no! Blanderson..." he chuckled uneasily, trying to make light of the situation.<br>I looked over the deep mahogany table, my eyes skimming over the half-empty coffee cup and upwards to look at the wide green eyes of my best friend. Dylan stared at me, his mouth moving silently in wordless disbelief. It was rather adorable, watching him try to put his shock into words.  
>"Just think about it, Dylburn" I smiled, relieved when he smiled slightly at the nickname.<br>"I-I..Are you crazy?" was all he could manage.  
>"Most likely" I shrugged, leaning forward to convey the seriousness of my suggestion.<br>"I'm thinking about it. And I'm thinking no." Dylan looked rather smug at his little pun.  
>"Seriously, Dyl. I...I need you to forget all your doubts for a second. Just imagine it, OK? Forget about what people say or think. How cool would it be?"<br>I think my voice got through to him because Dylan finally stopped with the goldfish impressions and thought. I took a sip of my medium drip, carefully watching his face. I liked to think that I knew Dylan pretty well, seeing as he was my best friend and all. But I couldn't quite see what he was thinking.  
>"Ok." He took a deep breath. "Ask it me again..."<br>My face cracked into a smile, barely smothering my grin as I spoke.  
>"Dylan Blackburn, will you go to the Sadie Hawkins' dance with me?"<p>

**[A/N: This took a while, sorry! Life just got in the way, the pesky little thing ;) Anyway, hope I got the soccer mechanics just about right. I know it all from having a football mad dad and brother, so the facts should be pretty accurate. Please favourite and review! Reviews make me want to work even harder to get the next chapter up, so please keep them coming. I love hearing your views and any constructive criticism, so please don't be afraid to review. The next chapter shouldn't take as long to put up, so see you all next chapter!]**


	5. Chapter 5: Crash

**[A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I put writing this off for a while because I knew what had to happen, and I couldn't bring myself to write it. I finished this last week but haven't had internet access so, it's pretty late. :/ The next chapter is nearly done, so it WILL be up very soon! I edited my formatting a little, so hopefully speech is clearer.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Glee. :( I do own Dylan Bradburn and any other original characters, however. :)**

**Songs used are Disturbia - Rihanna and I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing - Aerosmith. Listen to them if you want, Disturbia especially helped me think of some ideas. I'm not forcing you, but it will be a better experience if you take a little listen. :)**

**Ok, that's it. See you next chapter! Reviews are loved, so leave me one if you have a second. Alerts and favourites are amazing too. :) 3]**

"I look ridiculous."

I stared at my own reflection in the mirror, wondering whether to laugh or cry. The suit I wore was a light grey and the tie was red. It might have looked good, apart from the shirt. What had possessed me to choose a bright green shirt was beyond me. The ensemble looked ridiculously awful. I groaned and ran my hand through my curls.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" I mumbled, bringing my hand down over my face. I closed my eyes for a few seconds before resuming my forlorn stare into the glass. Still ridiculous. Ok, time for a new shirt. I shrugged out of the tailored jacket and the hideous shirt, discarding the shirt on the floor. I looked at myself in the mirror again. _Not bad, Blaine. Cutting out all of those pancakes and RedVines is really working,_ I mused as I looked at my toned stomach. I looked good, I had to admit. Maybe I could just go to the dance shirtless...Smirking to myself at the thought, I shook my head and picked up a more sensible white shirt. A few tweaks later and I had an outfit. The grey suit looked sleek paired with the crisp white shirt and a dark grey bowtie. Greyscale was in. Of course the colour scheme was ruined by the bright pink socks on my feet, but that didn't bother me. Why not express yourself through socks? It's not like anyone would've looking at my feet anyway. Unless someone had a foot fetish or-ok, these thoughts were getting weird. Just concentrate on looking good. After all, there were only three hours until Dylan picked me up. With the terrifying realisation of my tight time schedule, I set to work taming the beast that masqueraded as my hair.

"You look ridiculously hot."

"As do you, my handsome friend."

Dylan grinned at me, his eyes swiftly travelling over my body before greeting me with that compliment. Naturally I returned the favour; it was true, he looked hot. Dylan was wearing a black suit with a black suit and a skinny white tie. Very chic. The dark clothes contrasted with his blonde hair which was falling into his eyes; eyes which shone like emeralds as he smiled.

"You ready to go?" he asked, still smiling at me.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, starting to walk out of the door.

"Wait! Blaine! Pictures, honey!" my mother scurried into the foyer, the family camera clutched in her hand. She smiled warmly at Dylan and ushered him in with her free hand.

"Moooom," I groaned as she poked and prodded us into place. Dylan just chuckled and slid his arm around my back. I did the same, beginning to enjoy the attention as my mom fussed over making sure we looked right.

"Ok, and smile!"

We both smiled for a few clicks before my mom squealed and announced that she had the right shot.

"Ok, can we go now? I don't wanna be late." It had taken ten minutes just for pictures. Honestly, she was acting like I was getting married or something. Mom laughed and hugged us tightly before pushing us out of the door.

"You boys have fun! Call me if you need anything!" she called after us as we walked down the driveway to reach Dylan's car.

"At last," I mumbled as we pulled away from the house.

"You loved it" Dylan laughed, rolling his eyes playfully.

I shrugged but smiled to myself. I did love it. I couldn't believe she was being so supportive. I mean, Mom had said that she accepted me but this was even better than that. She was embracing it. Which was much more than could be said for my father. My dad had stormed out of the house when I had gone downstairs to get a drink earlier, dressed in my suit and hair half gelled down. After taking one look at me, he had grimaced and walked out, muttering something about 'not wanting to be anywhere near homo-explosion when he came.' (Homo-Explosion was one of the more kind nicknames he'd devised to describe Dylan.)

"Anyway," I said, trying to stop myself from thinking about my father. Tonight was about having fun. I was not going to let my father ruin it. "I get the feeling tonight's gonna be awesome."

"Me too! I've been watching those how to dance videos on YouTube and I've got pretty good, if I say so myself!" Dylan gushed.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. Dylan couldn't dance at all; his height and huge feet didn't help his lack of co-ordination in the slightest.

"I'll take your word for it, Dyl," I teased.

"We'll see who kills it on the dance floor then" he replied, laughing along with me.

Centerville High School may have been full of arrogant jocks and a messed up social hierarchy but they definitely knew how to host an event. The Sadie Hawkins was the second school dance of the year, after Homecoming; I'd skipped on Homecoming to hang out with Dylan so I hadn't yet been to a social event at school. The main school gym had been fully kitted out for the event: fairy lights twining around the doors, paper lanterns lining the walls, shiny streamers draping across the room. A silver disco ball shone and glittered above the dance floor, sending fragmented rainbows haphazardly around the room. Corners were cast into shadows by the strobe lighting, but the centre of the room truly was a masterpiece. Around the main focus of the polished dance floor, large tables filled in the rest of the space. The round tables were draped in silver tablecloths and surrounded by silver backed chairs. Dylan and I were seated at a table towards the back of the room, with a few of our friends from drama club. We had arrived an hour ago but had yet to venture out to dance, preferring to snatch up some food at the buffet and chat with our friends; the girls wanted to hear compliments about their dresses - and rightly so, they looked amazing - and the guys just concentrated on shovelling food into their faces. It was actually really fun. The music was thumping, laughter was abundant and the lights flickered crazily, sending an air of excitement into everything.

"-so then I said 'Uhh no, don't think so!' and I just ran RIGHT into Mr Burton!"

Dylan's laughing voice broke through my thoughts, sending everyone into hysterics at the story he'd just told. I smiled slightly as Dylan glanced over at me to see my reaction. I'd heard the story many times before. Yes it was hilarious but the tale of how he broke our Maths teachers foot with a stapler and a cat got a little old after hearing it breathlessly retold 34 times.

"You ok Blaine?" Dylan murmured, leaning closer to me to be heard over the deafening music. I nodded and smiled.

"I'm good, just thinking about how cool this is."

"It'll be even cooler when we get up and dance! Show everyone our sick moves!" my best friend replied excitedly.

"Okok, when a good song comes on!" I laughed.

_Bum bum de-dum bum bum de-bum bum._ The familiar thumping bass began the intro to the song, the lyrics following the music soon after.

_"What's wrong with me?_" Dylan sang, squealing at the song. "Come on Blaine; we have to dance to this!"

"Alright!" I smiled and stood up, allowing the excited blonde to drag me out into the dance floor.

_'No more gas in the rig, can't even get it started.'_ The lyrics to the popular song filled up the gymnasium. Rihanna was popular and everyone had loved Disturbia when it had gone huge a few months ago. Soon enough the dance floor was filled with moving bodies, all mingling together to form one huge, always moving crowd. Dylan and I laughed as we danced, just messing around with it. We sang along to the chorus as we danced around each other. His eyes were shining with excitement, his face red with exertion, his laughing breathless with ever lasting energy. I knew that I was probably the same, my face shining with sweat and my hair coming unruly, but I didn't care. I was having fun!

_"It's disturbia! Disturbia!"_ Dylan sang to me as he grabbed my hands and twirled me around. We exploded into a fit of giggles as we stumbled, nearly knocking me to the ground. Nothing could ruin my good mood, I had never felt so good and full of life.

"Fag."

I froze in the midst of the dancing crowd. Even though the music was unbelievingly loud, I could have sworn I'd heard something. Something that sounded suspiciously like-

"Look at the fags!"

I could feel my hazel eyes widening. There was no doubt about it this time. I had definitely heard the word fag. It was obviously being directed at either Dylan or myself. I took a deep breath and tried to forget about it, laughing as Dylan attempted a fancy footwork move and had to grab my arm for support when he tripped over his own feet.

"Fags! Fairy boys!"

_'Release me from this curse I'm in. Trying to maintain but I'm struggling!'_

"Blaine? Are you alright?"

I shook my head, unable to get the voices out of my head. They had to ruin everything. This night had been going perfectly and some idiots just had to ruin it.

"What's wrong?" I could hear the concern in Dylan's voice so I turned back to him with a weak smile on my face. I knew it wasn't fooling him.

"Just need to get some air, no worries. I'll be right back," I quickly replied, beginning to walk away.

Not two seconds had passed before I felt Dylan's hand on my arm as he tried to keep hold of me in the crowds as he followed me out. I smiled to myself, despite everything: I really did have an amazing friend.

* * *

><p>Taking a deep breath as we exited the gym and into the cool fresh air, I felt calmer. Everyone was inside. Out here, on the concrete path that lead from the main school building to the gym, it was deserted. I leant against the building wall, simply tilting my head towards the dark sky and took deep breaths. I could feel the curious and concerned pressure of the look Dylan was giving me, but I ignored it. After a minute I felt much better. I looked over at Dylan and smiled.<p>

"Sorry about that. The crowds just got to me" I apologised. I hadn't meant to drag Dylan out here when he was having so much fun dancing.

"What kind of friend would I be if I just left you to stand out here alone?" he replied simply with a shrug.

"You're amazing Dyl," I smiled, causing my best friend to shrug again and look at the ground bash fully. Dylan both loved and hated compliments; he obviously liked being told good things but he always blushed and stuttered when trying to thank people for the compliment.

"T-thanks...it was nothing, really", he murmured, still keeping his gaze on the floor.

_"We're going to slow things down for a bit now, folks."_ We could hear the dj from out here, the music muffled by the walls but still pretty loud. I heard the familiar beginnings of I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. Typical; obviously whoever made the playlist wasn't very creative with their song choices.

"Giving Anderson a quickie, hmm?" I heard bellowing laughter and snorts from the group of guys who had just appeared behind Dylan. All our main bullies were there; Cameron Walker visible at the back, his trademark smirk firmly in place. I knew that this meant he was the leader: I had read somewhere that leaders tended to stay at the back, out of the action and attention. Perfect place for them to give orders and keep an eye on everything. The others were just the muscle whereas he was the mastermind.

"What do you want, Walker?" I sighed, thoroughly tired of all of them.

"You. Dead."

Ok, I knew the guy was a grade A asshole, but seriously? That was low. I raised an eyebrow, hardly dating to believe that the teenager opposite me had even said that.

"You heard me" he smirked. "I want you dead,_ fag_, and your boyfriend too if possible."

Dylan quickly moved next to me. He was trying to protect me, even though I could see that he was shaking. Dylan hated violence and I knew that he was scared out of his mind right now.

"Fuck off Walker." Had I really just said that?

And that was the beginning of the end for me. At those three words the four guys in front of Cameron jumped me. One pinned me against the wall, brutally shoving me against the brick. I could feel the rough brick digging into my cheek which had been thrust up against the wall. Another pushed Dylan out of the way roughly. I guessed they wanted to finish me first. I kicked out furiously at the others as they aimed punches at my stomach. The blows hurt, their knuckles digging into the soft flesh. I was quite toned, sure, but I didn't have the muscles like these did.

"Get off!" I yelled, somehow managing to get one of the guys in the balls with a sharp jab of my foot. Jerk. I barely registered him falling to the ground howling in pain as my attention was diverted while the three other guys started to hit me. Hard. Three pairs of fists pummelled me relentlessly. I could almost feel the bruises forming. I tried to fight back, managing to get in a few lucky punches here and there.

"Blaine!" Dylan screamed out. He sounded terrified and desperate. I wildly searched for him, still hopelessly hitting one of the idiots. Thank God, he was stood to the side, nobody paying attention to him.

"Run! Dylan, go!" I screamed back. I couldn't let my best friend get hurt too; this was my battle, I had got myself into it, and I was damned if I was going to let Dylan be involved too.

These thoughts fled my mind when I crumpled to the floor as Jack - one of Cameron's right hand men - kicked me in the ribs. I swore I could feel his foot breaking skin. Was that terrible screaming sound coming from my lips? The others - Aiden, Scott and Mark, I could see all of their faces clearly now from my vantage point of the floor - leapt on me and began hitting every part of me that they could reach. I hit back, clumsily kicking and punching, shocked whenever I heard a dull thud of impact that was my foot or hand connecting with a body part. Adrenaline had truly kicked in now. It fuelled my attacks and coursed through my veins. I just kept kicking and hitting, my whole body writhing as I tried to hit someone, all the while attempting to fend off their attacks.

"You fucking fag!" Jack snarled, spitting in my face. The white substance trickled into my mouth. I spat out, disgusted.

"Can't fuck your boyfriend with no cock, twink!" Aiden growled, punching my groin. Tears sprang to my eyes at the pain. His hand connected once again with my groin, sending more shooting pain through my body.

"Fucking fairy!" Mark crowed as he threw dirt onto my face, laughing as the dirt stung my eyes. I scrunched up my eyes, desperately hoping for my tears to clear my vision. He laughed even more and kicked my leg. I could feel the dull pain as he repeated the action roughly.

"What about the other one?" Scott smirked, pulling back from where he had been kicking my stomach and looking around. Suddenly Jack and Mark leaped on Dylan who had been trying to prise them away from me with no result.

"Leave him alone!" I shouted desperately. Dylan was sobbing, his eyes wide with fear. He couldn't fight; no matter what the circumstances, I knew that he couldn't allow himself to hurt anyone. They were going to hurt him bad.

"I don't think so" Cameron laughed, stalking forward with a long metal pole in his hands. He stepped into the fight for the first time as I cowered helplessly on the ground and his pole gleamed in the moonlight. My heart dropped as I saw it. This was it. "Night night, Blaine Anderson" he whispered before roughly swinging the pole down onto my ribs. I let out a scream and I could only feel the searing pain as he hit me again and again. I couldn't think coherently. I could only feel the dull ache as the pole retracted and the throbbing thud as the metal hit me. Thud, ache, thud, ache.

* * *

><p>Dylan was fucking terrified. He did his best to get them off Blaine, he really did. He hated violence. He cried at Bambi, he couldn't bear to watch the news in case something bad happened. But seeing these guys that he went to school with, mercilessly beating the living crap out of his best friend...he just had to do something. Something snapped. When Blaine had screamed at him to run, his voice hoarse with obvious fear, Dylan simply couldn't. He dove straight in, taking the punches and knocks to his face as they came. He wasn't a violent person but now Blaine's life was at stake, he had no other option.<p>

"Not so cool now, eh?" Jack yelled, lifting Dylan easily by grasping his neck then dropping him to the floor just as roughly. He stamped on his arm once, twice,_ snap_. Well shit, that arm was broke, Dylan thought absently as the pain dulled his senses and sanity. Thwack! Someone was stamping on his head. He felt a flash of pain and saw dark wetness falling to the ground. He was bleeding. Te dark red liquid continued to trickle out. Not like a delicate tinkling stream; like an angry rushing waterfall. Dylan closed his eyes. He felt dizzy. The world was spinning and he couldn't take the blurry outlines of his attackers any more.

"You fucking bastards," he managed to spit out vehemently before everything went black.

_'Don't wanna close my eyes_  
><em>Don't wanna fall asleep, yeah<em>  
><em>I don't wanna miss a thing.'<em>


	6. Chapter 6: Terrible Things

**[A/N: Once again, I have been awfully unactive! I've been meaning to update for weeks but I just never found the time to edit and post, until now. I hope people are still reading and there will never be a wait this long again, I promise. I'd love some reviews for some feedback and where you want me to go next: whether I should gloss over the treatment process and whatnot. I hope you enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, no, Glee and it's characters don't belong to me. All hail King Murphy. I do, however, own Dylan Blackburn and any other characters you don't recognise from the series! All hospital knowledge is from my 6 months on crutches and minuscule knowledge of the processes, haha. ]**

The first thing that I became aware off after passing out into darkness was a steady beep. Beep, beep, beep. The second thing I came aware of was how much my whole body _ached_. My eyelids felt too heavy to lift and my hearing was muffled. But I could still hear the strangely familiar steady beeping sound. I knew where I'd heard that sound before. Dylan had a strange fascination with watching hospital dramas and had forced me into watching some with him. This beeping was ever present. A heart monitor. I could hear it clearly so I assumed that meant I was hooked up to a heart monitor. Wait, what? Why would I be in a hospital, much less hooked up to a heart monitor? At this thought, fragments of images burst through to the front of my mind. The disco ball. Dancing with Dylan. Breathing in the cool fresh air. Cameron Walker. Pushed. Kicked. Pole. _Pain_. My eyes flew open and I gasped. I could hear the heart monitor get faster as I began to panic.

"Shh, calm down Blaine. You're in the hospital," a calm unfamiliar voice came from somewhere above me. "We have you on some pretty strong painkillers. You need to rest." And with that, I was out like a light.

But in the dark depths of unconsciousness I clung onto one thought: Was Dylan OK?

The next time I heard the heart monitor I opened my eyes. They no longer felt heavy and the white ceiling came into focus after a few seconds. I tried to look around the room as well as I could, considering my position. I could see the bland white walls, a plastic chair in one corner and a door slightly ajar on the other corner. I closed my eyes once again, trying to concentrate. I could remember everything clearly now. The dancing, the fight. I knew I was hurt badly. I could tell that much from the way my right leg had a dull ache and how my chest hurt when I breathed. But I didn't care about that right now. I just wanted to know if Dylan was OK.

"Blaine?" I heard a worried voice that sounded like my mothers. "Honey, are you awake?" Definitely my mother.

"Mhmmm," I mumbled. My throat felt dry and it hurt when I swallowed.

"I'll go get the nurse. I'll be right back, honey" my mom assured me, squeezing my hand before I heard her footsteps leave the room.

I opened my eyes slowly, ignoring the throb of my head as I tried to raise it. I slowly lowered my head back down to the soft pillows. Hmm, they really were soft. I hadn't noticed that before...

"Good afternoon, Blaine." The unnaturally chirpy voice stirred me. I opened my eyes and saw a young brown haired nurse standing over me with a wide smile on her face.

"Mm, afternoon.." I mumbled, slowly becoming more awake. I watched as the nurse bustled around me, checking the heart monitor and the IV that I could now see that I was also hooked up to. After a few moments she picked up a clipboard and looked at me.

"Right, Blaine. You have quite the injuries list, unfortunately," she began, her voice still chirpy despite the circumstances.

"Go on then" I said wearily. I just wanted to know what was wrong, get out of here and go find Dylan.

"Your leg is broken, a clean break though so we have to get a cast on as soon as possible. We would have done it earlier but we had a more pressing concern with your ribs. You broke one rib and fractured another. We thought you could have punctured your lung but luckily it's all fine. You've also sprained your wrist ad have various cuts and bruises...well, everywhere really. You're going to feel battered for quite some time."

My eyes widened with each sentence. I knew I had been injured, but this was another extreme. Broken rib and a broken leg? Various cuts and bruises? I took a shaky breath and nodded.

"W-what about Dylan?" I asked, worried. If I was this bad, what about poor, non aggressive Dylan?

"The boy who came in with you? Broken arm, fractured wrist and...a moderate head injury," she replied, looking down at her clipboard.

"Moderate head injury? What does that mean?" I asked anxiously.

"That's what it says here. It's all I know kiddo, sorry. He's not been signed under my care" she apologised, putting the clipboard back down. "Just let me check a few things."

I stayed in my own world as she checked me over, asking me to flex my hand or whatever. I was worried about Dylan. A head injury was bad, I knew that. He just had to be OK, he had to.

* * *

><p>"I want to see him, he's my son! I have every right - let me through!"<p>

I could hear the angry voice from outside my room a few hours after waking up. My father arguing with one of the nurses. I sighed and looked over at the closed door. Why did he want to come and see me? I knew I was in hospital but over the past few weeks he'd made it very clear that he hated me. So why would he care enough about my injuries to come see me? I could still hear him outside. They probably weren't letting him in because they were just finishing up my cast; a bright purple, hard, already irritating cast from my ankle to my knee. I looked down at the two women who were fussing over the purple covering as it dried, and smiled a little. Even in my woozy state, I wanted to be polite.

"Thank you. It looks really cool," I smiled, reaching down and poking the top of the cast gently.

"No problem, sweetie" the older nurse smiled whilst carefully moving my hand away from the cast. "Don't touch it to much, or poke your hands under it. If it itches or gets too hot under the cast, ask for some ice and place it just above the top of it; it should cool it down. This is going to be on for six weeks so take care of it, and when the times up make an appointment with the fracture clinic and we can get it off."

I nodded as I took in all of the information. I didn't want anything to go wrong so I made a mental note to keep my hands well away from my leg at all times, just in case.

"So will my leg be healed after six weeks?" I asked.

"Just about. You might have to have some physiotherapy for a little while just to rebuild the strength in the muscle, but you should be good to go," the nurse replied, putting away the bandages and things they'd used to put the cast on.

"Luckily your leg muscles are pretty strong, so if you have physio it won't be for long at all", the younger nurse added with a smile.

"I knew playing soccer would come in handy one day" I joked.

The nurses left a few minutes after and my dad strode in just as they left. I looked over as he walked up to me. He was still dressed in his suit for work and had his designer briefcase under one arm. His face was furious.

"What happened? Who did this? I'm going to sue, this is ridiculous. That flipping school, I _knew_ we should have just sent you to Dalton-" he began to rant, sitting down and barely even glancing at me.

"I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking," I muttered, rolling my eyes as he went on. Typical. Of course he'd be here, looking to make money somehow out of this situation.

"-this kind of thing wouldn't happen there. Why didn't you stick up for yourself, Blaine?" he finished, finally looking over at me.

"Well sorry if that's kind of difficult when there's five guys attacking you, clearly trying to _kill_ you for being gay!" I was mad. I was mad as hell. A tiny, almost non-existent part of me had thought that maybe my dad really did care about me when he had shown up. But I knew he was only here to complain about me not defending myself and to make money. I scoffed; incredible really, when his only son was in a hospital bed with broken bones and a broken mind, that all he could think about was getting more money out of it.

"Oh so it was that fairy's fault?" he countered, his dark eyes glinting. He'd found someone else to blame and was latching onto it. "I'm sure we can sue for something then, there must be-"

"Shut up! It isn't Dylan's fault! He's lying in a hospital bed too with a _moderate head injury_ and god knows what else! Have a bit of sympathy!" I shouted. I needed to make him see how much of an asshole he was being. And the only language my father understood was raised voices and anger.

"Who cares? I don't give a damn about that fucking _fag_! He corrupted you Blaine! You were heading in the right direction then this fairy boy comes and tricks you into thinking you're like him!" he shot back, his face turning red with fury.

"Like him? Do you mean gay? Or should I say 'fag' or 'fairy boy'? Because if that's what you're calling Dylan, then you're calling me that too!" I shouted, spitting out the words that so many people used to degrade me and Dylan - including my own father.

"You're not gay! This is just a phase, you'll get over it. You got over your Power Rangers phase when you were seven and you'll get over this too!"

"I can't just get over it! I'm gay, this is who I am and I'm _proud_! If you can't accept me for who I am, then you're no father of mine." I lowered my voice for the last sentence, the rage leaving me and sadness taking its place. I knew that he wasn't going to accept me anytime soon but somehow...I felt relieved. I had been hoping that maybe he would change his mind, that he'd realise that his son was more important than keeping up appearances and money, that he would just love me for me. Now though, I didn't have that hope any more. I didn't need him. Not like this.

"I'd like for you to leave now, please," I continued quietly, carefully watching my fathers face. "When you decide to get over yourself and want to love me for me, homosexuality and all...I'll be here. I'll be ready to listen. Just go, please."

My hazel eyes met Johnathan Anderson's brown eyes. He met my gaze coldly for a few seconds with a strange expression on his face, just looking at me. Standing up abruptly his face changed into a blank expression, effectively shielding any emotion from me.

"Right. I'll see you back at the house whenever then." He nodded sharply, turned on his heel and walked out.

Despite everything I felt a tiny twinge of disappointment when he just walked out. I thought he'd at least try and fight my decision, to prove he did love me still. I guess I hadn't read the expression on his face before he left very well. I had been sure that he looked sad.

* * *

><p>"You have to be quiet, he still hasn't woken up. If he doesn't wake up within the next few hours, we may have to consider putting him into a medically induced coma to help his head heal," the nurse told me, slowly helping me through the corridors. I was on crutches for my leg and it was slow progress. I had never had crutches before and I was terrified of putting the sticks too far forward and face-planting the floor or simply toppling over. So I stuck to minuscule little steps. It didn't help that my chest hurt when I moved too much, and obviously my body classed the three corridor walk as too much. If it was for anyone else I would have turned around and gone back into my little hospital room. But I had to do this for Dylan.<p>

"But he looks stable right now so that's probably not going to happen" she added, noticing the look of panic on my face.

"That's good...uh, what kind of head injury is it exactly?" I asked, pausing to readjust the crutches.

"He had his head stood on pretty badly and that combined with hitting the concrete caused a lot of bleeding. Head injuries do bleed a lot but this really was a lot. Luckily it doesn't look like there's any brain swelling from the x-rays but we can't be certain about the possibility of brain damage until he wakes up" the nurse explained softly. It was nice that she was trying to make it sound like no big deal so I didn't worry. It didn't work, but a nice gesture nevertheless.

It physically hurt me to see Dylan lying in that hospital bed. My tall dancer friend looked tiny surrounded by all the different machines; more around him than what were around me. The wires drowned his body, but I could still visibly see the blood dried onto his arm and cheek. One of his arms was in a cast and sling, the opposite wrist bandaged up. I slowly hobbled closer, barely noticing the nurse telling me that she'd leave us for a bit and slipped out. My eyes looked over his body, my heart twinning as I noticed different injuries. Apart from the blood, his visible skin was patterned with purple bruises and little cuts. As I slowly sat down in the chair beside his bed I focused on his face. Dylan's eyes were closed and one had a huge purple bruise covering the eyelid and the area around it. I lightly traced a long cut on his cheek with my fingertip. Tears sprang to my eyes. Dylan looked so helpless. Slowly I allowed my eyes to travel upwards to his head. His blonde bangs were swept to the side and a bandage swathed the crown of his head. Overall, he looked a wreck.

"Oh, Dylan" I murmured, leaning forward and taking his hand gently. I didn't want to hurt him even more than he already was. I closed my fingers around his loosely, biting down on my lip as I felt the coolness of his fingers. I sighed softly and settled myself into a comfortable position. I planned to sit here as long as it took.

"You gotta wake up soon Dylan, or you'll miss all the fuss" I began to speak softly, chuckling weakly. "But maybe you're just staying quiet to keep out of the spotlight, hu? I know you, you don't like the attention much. You got the best idea, Dyl." I sighed softly and rubbed my forehead with my free hand. I needed to talk about my dad with someone, even if they were unconscious at the moment.

"My Dad came to visit me. I know...I guess my mom told him. She just kept crying so I told her to go home and get some rest. You know how crying freaks me out. Anyway, I was getting my leg cast on - its purple, super awesome - and I could hear him from outside. Then he came inside and...god, all he cares about is_ money_ and how this will affect_ him_. He kept going on about suing and...he called us stuff. And you know what? My father had the nerve to judge me and say that it's just a phase! He compared it to my Power Rangers obsession! Which I don't have anymore by the way, but that's beside the point...I..I told him to go. I said as far as I'm concerned, I don't have a father. He didn't even fight for me, Dylan, he didn't even try."

I was just rambling. I had to get all the feelings out. It was just hitting me. He had walked out. My dad, someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally and irrevocably. He hadn't even tried. I didn't fit into his idea of perfection anymore so he didn't care. I could feel the tears in my eyes but I didn't even try to stop them from falling. The tears began to blur my vision after a while but I just kept crying. My whole body shook with the sobs, sending stabbing pains through my chest. I ignored the pain. I had to cry. I was cleansing myself of my dads influence and I was going to be OK, after I'd cried it out.

I felt a slight pressure on my hand. I brought my breathing under control, still sniffling slightly. The pressure came again. I tightened my hand on Dylan's and looked over to his face. He gripped my hand back tightly.

"B-Blaine?" he croaked, sounding dry and scared.

"I'm right here, Dylan" I replied softly, squeezing his hand softly.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes parted. He settled his emerald green eyes on me, blinking several times as he adjusted. He coughed and squeezed my hand back.

"Are we going to be OK?" he asked quietly.

I thought about the night before and this morning. I thought about how pacifist Dylan had ran into the fight to help me and how his actions had probably saved my life. I thought about the cast on my leg and the cast on his arm, marks of what our life had become. I thought about my mom's tears and my fathers yelling. I thought about myself finally standing up to my father and about him walking away without looking back.

I looked at my best friend and smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think we'll be just fine."


End file.
